


Completely Terrifying But So So Exciting

by akire_yta



Category: Skippy - Fandom
Genre: AU, M/M, crackfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-10
Updated: 2013-08-10
Packaged: 2017-12-23 00:07:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/919654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akire_yta/pseuds/akire_yta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>the first-born of the King must marry the first-born of one of the Clan Chieftains for stability to reign.  Kevin is soooo not on board with this plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Completely Terrifying But So So Exciting

**Author's Note:**

> I loved Brave. This is...not Brave. This just happens to bear some resemblance to the Brave-verse (such, as, y’know, plot) :)This _is_ for Sparrow, marking the anniversary of the day of her birth. She requested skippy and archery, so this is all her fault. Title from ‘An Awful Lot of Running’ by Chameleon Circuit, simply because I’ve had it stuck in my head for days... Unbeta-ed because ~handwave~ so excuse the inevitable mistakes.

Kevin slouched on his throne, chin jammed into the palm of his hand as he resolutely refused to make eye contact with any of the clans who had come to the festival his parents had decided to throw without even consulting him.

It was  his  life! He should at least know it was coming, not have the news sprung on him just as the bunting was going up.

Arrayed on the flagstones just below the dais, the leading families of the major clans all stood proudly before their kin, each Chieftain flanked by their first born.

First born...Kevin tuned back into the speech his father was giving. The right of every first born to compete. Kevin's toes curled, as he barely dared to hope.

“And my son will choose the trial that you all will endure to win his hand,” his father finished.

“ARCHERY!” Kevin coughed as all eyes in the great hall swivelled around and stared at him. Kevin cleared his throat, ignoring Nick's glare, Joe and Frankie's muffled sniggers. He stood, trying to exude the grace his mother had spent thankless years trying to instill in him. “Archery,” he said more calmly. “The trial I choose is archery.”

His father smiled, clearly grateful that his son had finally decided to engage himself with the festival for his betrothal. His mother, far shrewder, considered her son with a careful eye, never looking away even as her hand darted out and grabbed Frankie by the scruff of his formal jerkin as the young boy tried to creep away to get first go at the feast.

Kevin pretended not to see her watching; his mother could still read him too well, even now. He kept his eyes on the stuffed boar that dominated the back of the hall and tried to keep his features composed.

Inside he was dancing.

Archery.

* * *

Kevin missed the days when he was blissfully unaware of his privilege and his duty. He would never forget that summer's day in the forest, the pollen and dust in the air making the whole world sparkle. His mother was glowing even as she moved slowly, her belly swollen with her second son as she followed her first born around the camp site.

It was his birthday, and his father had said he was bringing him a special present. Kevin was racing around the camp, searching for the old man, greedy in the way toddlers were.

“There he is, my birthday boy!” his father called out as he walked into the camp, a package in one hand.

He will never forget the moment his tiny fingers first wrapped around the grip, the wood sun-warmed in his hand. The string had hummed, and the arrow had gone wild, but Kevin didn't care. He didn't let the bow go as he raced into the woods to find his wayward arrow.

The forest, normally a little foreboding even in bright sunlight, seemed less threatening with the bow in his hand. Then there had been the sprites, then the roar of the bear, his mothers' scream and his father's bellow to his men, calling for his sword and shield.

He had held onto the bow even as her horse had galloped them away to the safety of stone walls.

* * *

The arrow hit the straw target with a thunk. Kevin made a face, watching the fletching shiver as the energy of the strike dissipated. He drew another arrow, nocked it, and made a face at the target. “You must marry, Kevin,” he muttered to himself, rebellious and mocking. “The stability of the kingdom demands it, Kevin,” he added, drawing the string. Fifteen years of muscle memory made it one long flow of muscle and bone. “Remember your duty, Kevin.”   His fingers dropped, and the arrow joined its sibling in the bullseye. “I'll show them,” he added, reaching for another arrow.

“Incoming,” Joe sang out in warning as he and Nick ran past the door, Frankie giggling as he brought up the rear.

“BOYS! No running inside!” his mother called out. “I don't know,” she added, her voice drawing near as she approached his room. “Running, screaming...” there was a pause, the pattern of light and shadow changing as she stood in the doorway. “Shooting inside. Anyone would think you were rude savages, not princes,” she sniffed. She came over as Kevin nocked another arrow, her fingers plucking it off the rest before he could draw. “No. It's time to get dressed for the trials. And please wipe that expression off your face,” she added before Kevin could even move. “This is an important day for you, by tonight you may even be betrothed,” she added, smiling. Her smile faded at Kevin's scowl. “Please, Kevin,” she pleaded in exasperation. “As the king's first born, your marriage is important for the-”

“-stability of the kingdom,” Kevin sing-songed. “I get it, mother.”

She gave him a long, skeptical look. “I wonder...” she murmured, cutting off the thought with a shake of her head. “No, never mind. Come now, you must look your best.”

Kevin felt like a trussed-up pig by the time she was done, but knew better than to say so to her face. She was looking happy with him for once; the past few years, more often than not she'd considered him with varying levels of annoyance as he'd failed to learn yet another of her stultifying lessons. “Oh sweetheart,” she murmured, hand resting gently on her throat, on the silver medallion hanging there. “You...”

Kevin frowned. “Mother?” he asked softly, feeling like he did when he was young, and his mother was the wisest woman in the whole wide world.

His mother's eyes were suspiciously shiny. “Remember to sit up straight,” she admonished gently, and the moment shattered. She nodded, turned, and left with a sweep of her skirts.

Kevin waited until her footsteps had faded before gathering his arrows.

* * *

Five clans had stepped forward to vie for the prince’s hand, each of them rallying behind their clan standard, the banners fluttering and snapping in the light breeze.  Kevin sat to his father’s right, unable to slump even if he wanted to due to the tightness of the lacings of his vest.

His father leaned to the right.  “Look at them,” he muttered, nodding at the five Chieftains seated before them, facing the field.  They were stiffly keeping an appropriate distance from one another.  “Two seconds away from pulling each others’ pigtails, the lot of them.”

Kevin laughed, turning it into a cough as his mother’s head snapped around to glare at them.  He wished Joe and Nick and Frankie were here to keep him company as the pipers’ started playing, but his mother had quickly realized that asking her three youngest sons’ to sit still when their favourite older brother was obviously pouting was just a recipe for disaster, and had left them back at the castle with firm instructions not to cause too much mischief, and both their old nursemaid and her handmaiden to enforce her commands.

“Ah, here we go,” his father said, standing.  Kevin hesitated, half out of his throne, unsure whether to stand with his father, or sit and let the suitors step forward.  His mother’s discreet cough had him sinking back calmly into his throne, lifting his head in a mimic of her stern posture.

That earned him an approving little nod.  Kevin felt a tiny pang as he realized that what he was about to do was unlikely to receive such approval.

“Let the arrows fly!” His father bellowed before sitting back down.

Kevin couldn’t help but watch with interest as the five first-born of the five clans lined up.  Two women, three men.  The first in line to shoot, a slim dark-haired lady from Clan Jersey, drew the bow with the effort and concentration of one who only shot on occasion.  But Kevin nodded at the way she concentrated, thinking about her shot before letting the arrow fly.

There was applause, and cheering from her clan, as the arrow found a home respectably close to the bullseye.  “That’s my Danielle,” one of the Chieftains called out to Kevin from where the Chiefs had been seated, below the royal dais.  He pointed at her as he nodded at Kevin encouragingly, like a horse trader trying to lure a buyer for an old mare even though her’s was the first shot of the tournament.  He was obviously trying to claim an early advantage for his daughter.  While it was usual for the winner of the trials to claim the King’s first-born as prize, it was not unheard of for the Royal heir to make an argument for some special act of bravery or courage shown throughout the trials. That’s how his father had chosen his mother, after all - she may not have won the footrace he had set for his trials, but she ran smart, stealing shortcuts and making daring choices that won her wide approval and his father’s hand in the end.

Kevin just hoped what he was planning would be seen as daring, and not just plain  stupid .  But he couldn’t even think about just marrying someone he had never even met, become just a prize to be won, a way to the throne.

The next first-born was stepping up to the line, and he grinned and bowed like a courtier towards the royal dais.  “That’s Efron’s eldest boy,” he heard his mother whisper to his father.

“Aye, love,” his father said, before turning and leaning towards Kevin.  “And he’s just as much a prat as his father.”

Kevin bit his lip to keep from laughing out loud as the young man drew his bow and  winked at him before letting the arrow fly.  There was a hearty groan from his Clan as the arrow sank into the straw, just a hair’s breadth further from the bullseye than Lady Danielle’s had been.

The Clan Henrie standard was hoisted next, and Kevin tried not to groan sarcastically as the young man fumbled the bow and very nearly shot himself in the foot. The boy stumbled back into the jeering crowd of his clansmen as the next candidate stepped up to the line of targets.  The tiny elfin brunette woman from the southern clans looked as happy to be there as Kevin did, and as she stepped forward under her standard, he nodded respectfully to her.  She returned the nod, expertly drew the bow, and obviously and deliberately sent the arrow to the edge of the target.

“I hear that Lady Nicole loves another...” he heard his mother gossip quietly to his father.  Kevin took the opportunity of their distraction and slipped off his throne, scooping up his bow and quiver as he silently dropped off the back of the dais.  The crowd cheered and clapped as the last representative of the clans took his shot, and Kevin heard the murmur ripple through the assembled clans as they turned to realize that the crown prince was not on his throne.

Joe appeared by his side, grinning as he melted out of the crowds, and Kevin never loved his brothers more as Frankie let out a note on his tin whistle that turned everyone’s heads.  Joe planted the family standard as Kevin pushed to the front of the crowd.  “I’m Kevin of Clan Jonas, and I’ll be shooting for my  own  hand!”

He hefted his bow, wincing as the vest his mother had tied him into pulled everywhere.  He cursed under his breath as he heard his mother yell his name with a distinct lack of her usual royal grace.  Kevin drew his belt knife and slit the laces in two swift movements, not hearing the faint sigh of the simultaneous exhales of his suitors.  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his mother drop off the dais and begin to storm towards him.

He ignored her and nocked his arrow.  The fletching on Danielle’s arrow was ruffled as he sent his own to the bullseye.  “Kevin!” His mother said warningly.  

He stepped to the next line and drew again.  The arrow sank deep into the straw under the red dot.  “I’m warning you,” she called, lifting her skirts as she moved faster.

Joe moved to intervene as the next arrow struck home in the centre of the target, but she brushed him aside without stopping.  “Don’t you dare!” she called out.  The fourth arrow Kevin let loose without breaking stride.  “Kevin!”

Kevin drew and sighted.  There was an arrow already on the bullseye.  He breathed out, focusing on the tiny end of that arrow, and left fly.

His mother’s hand landed on his shoulder to the sound of splintering wood as his arrow split the shaft of the one on the target from nock to tip.

There was a breathless hush.

Then someone laughed, bright and clear and  pleased .  The crowd parted, and a tall, dark-haired man stepped forward, smiling broadly.  “Michael, of Clan Carden, your Majesty,” he introduced himself, bowing from the waist in perfect courtesy to the Queen.  “And even though I struck the bullseye, the Prince has struck an even smaller target, and so if it was his own hand he was playing for, I acknowledge the superior bowmanship and his right to the prize.”  He looked right at Kevin for the first time, and Kevin saw a  familiar frustration in the impish grin.

An older man came to grip Mike’s shoulder, just as the Queen held Kevin, but Mike brushed the man off.  “Father, he’s right,” Mike hissed at the older man.  “What basis is it, to build a marriage on a...a  game! ”  He sniffed and tugged his jerkin straight.  “However,” he added in a more composed voice.  He flashed another, smaller, smile right at Kevin that made his stomach twitch interestingly in response.  “If at the feast the Prince would care to sit a while and talk with me of bows and finding one’s target, he would find me an appreciative listener.”

Kevin, always shielded, always kept away from anyone not of the court, thought about that.  About talking with Michael, getting to know him.  About finding out what made him smile and what made him frown.  Finding out more than just he shot the bullseye on the target before making a decision about who he was to  marry .

Maybe he and Michael would be perfect for each other, or maybe they’d have nothing in common.  But maybe now he could find out  before anything was set in stone.  

And that had to be for the good of the kingdom.  

 

 

 

  



End file.
